Forbidden
by Candelabra
Summary: Among other things, the sons of the koorime are forbidden to cry. Hieicentric, with optional shounenai. Rated for mention of death.


**A/N:** It is supposed to be depressing. If so, yay! If not ... oh well. Contains a few hints of shounen-ai, and even a little Hiei/Botan, if you so choose to look at it that way.

My first intentionally Kurama/Hiei piece. Yes, I like K/H. I also like M/H, B/H, and a lot of characters/Hiei.

Also, as a bit of side-advertising: Anyone interested in crossovers, feel free to check out my new YYH/HP/IY crossover, Tactical Divisions! That's all. Have fun reading ...

* * *

It was raining. The sky was grey and dull, casting dead light on the sodden forest. It was as though everything — the earth, the trees, the skies — was weeping. 

Hiei hated it for that.

Why should it be allowed the luxury of crying, of tears, when he was not?

"_You shouldn't punish yourself like that, Hiei."_ Laughing, teasing voice. Red hair, sly green with flickers of gold beneath.

Hiei ground his teeth together. _Get out of my head, Kurama._

But he knew the youko wasn't in there. Or if he was, that was the only place he existed now — in the minds of all the people, demon and human that had ever known Kurama Shuuichi Minamino.

He was gone, and the word echoed emptily around Hiei, as though the entire world had just been robbed of something more important than anything else.

Hiei shut his eyes and leaneb ack against the tree he sat in. He didn't mind the rough, wet feeling of the bark against his back, anymore than he minded the raindrops that fell on his face and hands — the only parts of his skin not covered in black cloth.

It was never because of any particular dislike of the rain that brought him to Kurama's house. He wasn't quite sure what it _really_ was, and because the only reasons he could think of were either a perceived weakness or something so totally alien that it should be impossible, he tried not to dwell on it.

Another voice, another memory hit him sharply and his eyes flew open at the cold, cruel voice speaking to him long ago, so long ago ...

"_The sons of the koorime are not permitted to live."_

He smirked a little, remembering. As if he would ever obey that.

"_If, through some ill chance, they do, many things are forbidden to them."_

But though Hiei told himself that the koorime were sick fools, as his memory unfolded and the list of commandments that followed drifted through his mind, he began to see that some small part of him must have believed them. Why else did he follow those rules, when he followed no others?

"_First and foremost is this: They must never love. To not love is to never be truly alive, and in this way they will not live. Even if they breathe and their hearts beat sickly warm blood through their bodies, they will not be truly alive._

"_They must not participate in any festivities, must not display or feel joy before others. Happiness is forbidden._

"_So, also, is sadness. The forbidden sons must never care, never feel, and so they will not know sorrow. If they are to survive, they must live lives devoid of meaning._

"_And if a son of the koorime is ever to cry ... then the worlds will be overturned and all order forsaken. Death itself will die and all will be chaos."_

Hiei smiled bitterly. _Death itself will die?_ Well, he'd never want _that_ to happen, now would he?

Perhaps it was this thought, and the memory of a blue-haired girl that caused him to do what he did next. Instead of letting his eyes overflow with as yet unshed tears, he merely leaped from the branches to land by the gravestone of Kurama. They'd buried him in the forest, of course, underneath the trees and the grass and the green growing things he loved so well.

Gently, gently, Hiei caressed the gravestone as he had never let himself caress the red hair of the one who lay beneath it. Then he leaned back against it and shut his eyes, swallowing the tears.

It was raining. The world was grey and colorless, and it seemed as though the sky were crying, crying.

Against a grey stone in the middle of the forest sat a small, black-clad figure.His eyes were shut and he seemed almost to be sleeping.

Raindrops landed on his face and hands, soaking his cloak. They gathered at his eyelashes and tumbled down his cheeks, like tears.

Hiei, son of the koorime, lay against a tombstone and let the rain cry for him.


End file.
